


The Limits of Control

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Bartender Mike Ross, Dubious Consent, Faint Hints of BDSM, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Lawyer Harvey Specter, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pining, Student Mike Ross, hypnotherapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike is a bartender, working on his degree in Psychology. Harvey is stressed at work and suffering from panic attacks. They haven’t seen each other since a one-night stand months ago that didn’t end well. Harvey shows up at the bar and despite his resentment toward Harvey, Mike reluctantly offers hypnotherapy as a solution to Harvey’s issues. Just as reluctantly, Harvey accepts. It starts out well, until Harvey hurts and angers Mike again, and Mike decides to use the hypnosis sessions to exact a bit of revenge. He knows it’s wrong, but once he starts, he can’t seem to stop.
Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	The Limits of Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dixie12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixie12/gifts).



> Written for dixie12, who won me SO LONG AGO in the Fandom Trumps Hate Auction. Thank you for your generous bid (and donation), and for your patience, as this took me much longer than usual to complete, even with such a great prompt to work with. I hope you like it, and that it was worth the wait. 
> 
> Also, huge thanks to bubblemoon66, whose beta reading skills I won in the auction, and who gave me some fantastic suggestions to improve the fic.

Fridays were always the busiest at _Duces Tecum_ and tonight was no different _._ Even so, between serving the attorneys and paralegals that showed up to blow off steam after another stressful week in the legal arena, Mike managed to sneak in a little studying. By seven o’clock, even that was a near impossibility. It didn’t help having chatterbox Harold Gunderson seated at the bar, stupid-drunk on three mango daquiris.

Harold was in mid-drone about some pro bono case he’d been stuck with when he broke off, seeming to notice for the first time that Mike was doing his best to ignore him and keep his eyes glued to the page in front of him.

“What are you reading?” Harold asked.

Suppressing his irritation, Mike closed the book, keeping his place with one finger, and showed the cover to Harold.

Harold’s eyes widened. “ _Clinical Studies of Hypnotherapy_? I thought you were a psychology major.”

Mike refrained from rolling his eyes. “Hypnotherapy can be a useful tool in treating certain problems.”

“Huh. You could also moonlight in Atlantic City, or holiday parties. Hey, I’ll bet if I talked to HR –” Harold halted mid-sentence, lowered his voice, and whispered in apparent horror, “Oh, shit, Mike. Look who just walked in.”

Resigning himself to getting no more studying accomplished tonight, Mike closed the textbook and tossed it underneath the bar. He smirked at Harold. “If it’s not Professor Whitman come to tell me I aced the Biopsychology midterm, I don’t give a shit.”

“I’m serious, Mike. It’s –” Harold went even paler than his normal pasty hue. “Oh crap. Oh, shit. He’s coming this way.” He hunched his shoulders, presumably with the intent of making himself invisible, and hissed out of the side of his mouth, “Please tell me he didn’t see me.”

Naturally, whoever it was had headed straight for them. This was a bar, and Mike was the bartender. Additionally, it would be nearly impossible to miss a perspiring and now luridly flushing Harold. Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Mike directed a bored glance toward the doorway and froze. Harvey Specter was bearing down on them, gorgeous, dressed to perfection, and looking as if he needed to punch something or somebody.

_Oh, shit._

Mike leaned against the bar and murmured, “Who pissed in his cornflakes?” He watched as Harvey stopped at a table of rival lawyers and spoke with them, appearing to grow even angrier as the conversation progressed.

“You haven’t heard? No, why would you?” Harold took a quick gulp of his drink and grimaced. “The new DA –”

“Terence Wolf?”

“Yeah, Wolf.” Harold gave him a funny look. “I’m surprised you’ve even heard of him.”

“Hey, ninety-percent of the customers here are lawyers or paralegals. I keep up on all the major players in town. Comes in handy sometimes.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, Wolf pretty much humiliated Harvey in open court this morning. Spanked him good. It was all over the firm. All over the city, probably.”

“Humiliated Harvey? How did he manage that?” Mike would love to take notes on his methods.

“Just, you know, called him on his bullshit and –” Harold shut his mouth with an audible click of teeth.

Harvey had reached them and stood glaring at Mike, hands braced against the edge of the bar. If he noticed Harold at all, he didn’t show it. Ignoring the remainder of his daquiri, Harold threw some bills on the bar, slid off his stool and bolted for the door with a fleeting, apologetic look at Mike.

Mike eyed Harvey coolly, striving to steer his thoughts away from that one incredible night they’d spent together five months ago. His normal ability to shrug off his one-night stands and move on had somehow failed utterly with Harvey. Getting laid on the regular was one of the perks of his job. He’d probably slept with close to a dozen of the lawyers and paralegals in the bar right now. None of them had been particularly memorable – none of them except Harvey.

Harvey, he knew, was every bit as allergic to relationships as he was, and he’d likely fucked twice as many of the legal professionals in the room as Mike, with half the emotional engagement.

Mike kept his features carefully impassive as they faced one another across the bar. “Your usual?” he inquired.

Harvey’s mouth tightened briefly. “Better make it a double.” He climbed onto the stool next to the one Harold had vacated, settling in as if he intended to stay a while.

“Tough day?” Mike poured a double portion of Macallan 18 and set it in front of Harvey.

Harvey gave a grunt of disgust. “You heard, huh?” He tossed back half his drink with a savage scowl.

“Just the barest outline.”

The hit of alcohol seemed to ease a tiny portion of Harvey’s tension. “Wolf’s the new guy. He’s looking to prove himself.” He laughed shortly. “Prison rules. Go after the biggest, baddest guy in the yard first. I guess I should be flattered.” He sipped his drink, shaking his head.

Mike didn’t want to feel compassion for Harvey. He wanted to savor his comeuppance, maybe twist the knife a little and watch him squirm. If anyone deserved a bit of karmic payback, it was Harvey Specter. Even so, he preferred Harvey’s confidence, his cockiness and arrogance. He’d found it hot as hell, especially in bed. It hadn’t been all that hot the next morning, when Harvey had ordered him to get out, but he was discomfited by this other version, this angry, stressed out, vulnerable and wholly human version of the man. Without being asked, he topped off his drink.

“So, what are you doing in here?” Mike asked. “Shouldn’t you be at the office?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Isn’t that your move?”

“Funny.”

“But seriously, shouldn’t you be working late, plotting your revenge?”

A small, dejected huff from Harvey. “The office is the last place I want to be right now.” He drank again, and then eyed Mike sourly over the rim of his glass. “Oh, hadn’t you heard the other juicy piece of gossip?”

Mike glanced around the room to see if anyone else needed his attention. Everyone seemed happy for the moment, so he crossed his arms and gazed blandly at Harvey, ignoring the weird leap in his chest at being this close to him again. “Nope. What else happened?”

Harvey’s facial muscles tightened. “There’s a power struggle in progress at my firm and my side is not winning at the moment.”

Mike gave a negligent shrug. “Office politics? I’d think you were above all that. What happened? Did someone impugn your lawyering skills at the water cooler?”

The gaze Harvey fixed on him was incredulous. “It’s more than ‘office politics.’ If you knew the first thing about the legal profession, which you don’t, you’d know that intrafirm fights can be the nastiest, bloodiest things imaginable.”

The over-the-top drama of Harvey’s pronouncement nearly caused Mike to laugh in his face. “Whatever. If I invested myself too heavily in every little attorney soap opera in this town, I’d never get any work done.”

“But really, isn’t that part of your work here?” Harvey’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he not-quite-smiled.

“I meant schoolwork.”

“Oh, right. You’re studying to be … what was it again? … An anthropologist?”

God, Harvey was so annoying. He knew damn well which degree Mike was pursuing. “No. Psychology.” Mike narrowed his eyes, pretending to consider for a couple of seconds. “Hey, you know, if you ever want to help me out, and vice versa, maybe I could practice on you. You seem like a fairly massive head case. I’ll bet you’d make a fascinating case study, possibly worthy of publication in a peer-reviewed journal.”

He was being intentionally flippant, and expected a snarky, dismissive reply, wrapped in an insult for Mike and his chosen future profession. Instead, Harvey’s expression grew guarded and he picked up his glass, sucking down scotch like it was the magical elixir that would solve all his problems. When he’d emptied his glass, he pushed it toward Mike. “Less mocking, more pouring.”

Mike complied, beginning to regret his callous response. An aspiring psychologist should probably practice compassion. Harvey seemed genuinely distressed. Why else would he be here, seemingly intent on drinking himself blind? “You know,” he said slowly, “unrelieved stress can be bad for your health. You may wish to give therapy serious consideration.”

Harvey gave Mike a bitter smile. “Believe me, I’ve tried that route. Three therapists later, and here I am. I doubt a novice like you could offer me anything more than they did.”

Mike hid his shock. Harvey was the last person he would have expected to seek out that kind of help, much less admit it. “Three? Wow. You must have a lot of issues, man. Which I suppose shouldn’t surprise me.”

“You don’t know shit,” Harvey muttered, using one finger of each hand to prod his glass back and forth.

Frowning, Mike began to grow concerned in spite of his animosity towards Harvey. He debated keeping his mouth shut, reasoning that Harvey’s misery shouldn’t be his concern, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do that. “What’s going on?” he finally asked. “Did something happen? Besides today, I mean.”

At first, Harvey didn’t seem inclined to answer. He shook his head, staring morosely at the countertop, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me, Harvey.”

A small, resolute headshake.

“Come on. No one else will know. Bartender-client privilege, right?”

This elicited a short, reluctant sounding laugh from Harvey. He was silent for a few more seconds until finally, without meeting Mike’s gaze, he admitted in a voice almost too low to hear, “I’ve been having panic attacks.”

And there was shock number two for the night. Not just that Harvey was having panic attacks, which was huge, but that he had confessed this to Mike, of all people. Sympathy shot through him, despite his best efforts to tamp it down. “Well, that sucks. How long has this been going on?”

Harvey studied him for a moment, as if debating – too late – the wisdom of confiding in him. “A few months.”

“How often?”

“Often enough. Too often.” He drank again. “My first therapist tried to treat the problem with drugs, which I tolerated for less than a week. The next one had some half-baked theory that childhood issues were causing the attacks. The third guy was worse than useless. They all were, to be honest.” He eyed Mike, his look ironic and a little scornful. “Does your Psych 101 class have any helpful advice to offer?”

“101?” Mike scoffed. “I’m three months away from graduating.”

An idea had begun to form of something he could offer to help Harvey, but before he could mention it or even complete the thought, Harvey seemed to lose interest in the conversation. He swiveled his stool to survey the room. “Maybe I just need to get laid,” he mused.

Mike’s pulse leapt at this, but Harvey was clearly not referring to him. He hid his disappointment and kept his tone light, pretending to evaluate the prospects. “What about her?” He nodded toward the far corner where an attractive blonde woman was sipping scotch and staring down at her phone.

Harvey’s gaze sharpened. Evidently, he liked what he saw. “Who the hell is that?”

“Evan Smith. She just signed on with Hackett Cropper Klein.” He’d seen her rebuff one hopeful attorney after another since she’d first shown up in the bar a couple of weeks ago. He doubted that Harvey would have any better luck, which is why he’d pointed her out to him instead of one of the dozens of sure things.

Another table signaled Mike and he left Harvey to take care of them. A few minutes later, after he’d refilled their drinks and put in an order to the kitchen, he returned to the bar to find Harvey’s stool vacant. Evan Smith had also left her table. Mike glanced at the exit just in time to see Evan and Harvey’s retreating backs before the door swung shut behind them. He was both impressed at the speed with which Harvey had worked, and depressed that it wasn’t Mike leaving with him.

With a deep, discontented sigh, he reached for the textbook again, staring thoughtfully at the cover. He’d wanted to pose the suggestion of hypnotherapy as a solution to Harvey’s problems, but it looked like he’d found his own form of therapy. Anyway, could Harvey even be hypnotized? He seemed the type who would be resistant to relinquishing control. How sweet would it be, though, to be the one in charge of him? A wicked smile played across Mike’s lips as he imagined the things he could do with Harvey, the things he could make him do.

Not that he ever would, but it was fun to think about. Those thoughts kept him company throughout the remaining hours of his shift and provided him with a bone-rattling orgasm at home later that night.

******

Mike didn’t see Harvey for another three weeks. It was a Tuesday when he showed up again. This was typically the quietest night of the week, and the bar was nearly empty. Harold wasn’t around this time to act as Mike’s early warning system. Mike had his back to the room, loading the dishwasher, when he heard the creak of leather as someone sat on one of the bar stools. Turning around, he found Harvey slumped in his seat, elbows on the bar. His face was drawn, with dark crescents under his eyes. If he’d looked angry and stressed before, now he looked positively wrecked. Without a word, Mike poured him a drink and set it in front of him.

“Thanks,” Harvey rasped, and drank deeply. He closed his eyes, seeming to wait several seconds for the alcohol to hit his system. Opening his eyes, he gazed at Mike, but said nothing. He took another drink and this time Mike saw the small tremble in his hand and heard the subtle rattle of glass against wood when he set the glass down.

“Harvey?” Mike’s brows drew together as he studied him. “Are you okay?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He drank again, set the glass down with a click, and glared at it as if it had betrayed him.

“Somehow, I doubt that. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Not your concern.”

He had a point. Mike wasn’t certain why he was pushing him. Part of it was simple nosiness, but beyond that, it bothered him more than he cared to admit to see Harvey so distraught. “It might help to talk about it.”

“It might not.”

Was this what being a psychologist was going to be like? Having to try so hard to get the truth out of client? If so, he might as well take this opportunity to practice patience and persistence. “What was different about today? What made you come here to drink away your stress?”

Harvey studied him, eyes narrowed. “Did no one ever teach you the concept of, ‘give it a rest?’ Apparently not. Fine. You want to know what’s going on with me? Let’ see. Not much. My firm’s under attack from every side, from within and without, and I’m the one everyone is looking at to save them. I’m expected to ride in and kick some ass, to fix everything.” His mouth worked for a few seconds. “It’s too much. They all want too much from me. They want the impossible and I don’t know if I can deliver anymore.”

He drank, throwing quick glances at Mike between sips. “Can I tell you something else? Sometimes I just want to say, ‘fuck it all,’ but I can’t. People are depending on me. I can’t walk away, but God, I’m so tired. I need a goddamn break, just some space to breathe.” Harvey looked around the room as if checking to see if anyone besides Mike had heard his admission. He let out a weak chuckle. “Jesus. Sorry to unload on you like that. There’s really no one else I could admit all that to.”

“Hey, nothing like your friendly neighborhood bartender to hear your confession, right? Almost as good as a priest.” The bitterness in his own voice surprised him and he smiled in an effort to lessen the sting.

Harvey didn’t notice, seemingly too wrapped up in his own misery. “So, what’s my penance?” he asked with a twisted smile.

Mike considered for a moment. His gaze fell on the textbook underneath the bar. “No penance required. Just a suggestion.”

Harvey held his hands out to either side. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

Mike grabbed the stool he kept on his side of the bar and sat, leaning in until his face was only a couple feet from Harvey’s, and lowering his voice to ensure privacy. “I suspect that your first instinct will be to reject this outright, but hear me out, okay?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Right. Okay. So, I’ve been working on my senior thesis, which is a clinical study comparing the effectiveness of hypnotherapy versus talk therapy.”

Harvey groaned. “God, no. No more therapy.”

“The thing is, I’ve gotten pretty good at the hypnotherapy part of it.”

“You’re joking, right? You want to hypnotize me? To make me cluck like a chicken? Bark like a dog?”

“Don’t be an ass. You’re confusing me with a cheesy Vegas act. Hypnotherapy is a legitimate therapy technique. In the last few weeks, I’ve already helped one of my classmates with her test-taking phobia, and another with his crippling insomnia.”

Harvey stared down at the bar, dragging one index finger in slow circles. “And how, exactly, would hypnosis cause any of my problems to go away?”

“It won’t, obviously, not directly. It won’t win your cases for you or end the power struggle at your firm. What it can do is help to relax you, which in turn will make you more clear-headed. More importantly, it could help you get a handle on your panic attacks.”

Harvey winced, as if he regretted having told Mike about the panic attacks. “I don’t know, Mike. I doubt hypnosis would even work on me. I’ve always thrived on exerting control, not in handing it over to someone else.”

Mike felt himself blush as the memory invaded his brain of himself naked and cuffed to Harvey’s headboard, and being very much under Harvey’s control, immediately followed by his fantasies of turning the tables on Harvey. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, how is that working out for you?” He held up a hand before Harvey could reply. “I realize that is exactly what’s made you the successful attorney you are. And what has made you successful in … other areas. I’m not suggesting you radically change your behavior, just that you allow yourself to cede control to me for an hour. My shift ends at ten. We can head over to my place, or to yours if you’d prefer.”

“Mike, I’ve explained this to you. You knew the rules going in. I don’t do second nights with casual partners.”

 _Oof._ That smarted, even though Harvey was correct. Mike had known the ground rules. He’d stupidly continued to hold out hope for something developing between them that was more than casual. Even casual would be preferable to nothing, but that wasn’t going to happen. He hid his hurt as well as he could. “I wasn’t talking about … _that._ I just meant that we could try hypnotherapy on you. We’d proceed with specific, defined goals. You tell me what you hope to achieve, and I’d focus on that.”

The expression on Harvey’s face made it clear to Mike he was going to reject his proposal, but he was saved from hearing the words when a group of associates from Rand, Caldor and Zane surged into the bar, calling familiarly to Mike and demanding his attention. Mike left Harvey where he was and went to deal with them. When he finally got back, Harvey had moved away to sit by himself at a table on the other side of the room. He had his phone to his ear, scowling and nodding, occasionally offering a few terse words to whoever was on the other end.

Shaking his head, Mike chided himself for ever bothering to offer the guy help. He spent far more time than was necessary wiping down the bar and straightening the bottles on the shelves. The room began to fill as more stressed out or celebrating members of the legal profession crowded in. More celebration than stress tonight, Mike judged, if the generous tips were anything to go by. After a while he lost track of Harvey in the crowd, and assumed that he’d left with someone else, someone new to tie up and torment and fuck until they came screaming the names of God and all the angels.

Lucky them, whoever they were.

Oliver showed up to relieve him at ten, on time for once. Mike carried his till to the cramped office in the back to count and balance the cash and card receipts. He was just finishing when he heard a tentative knock on the door. “Almost done,” he called, assuming it was Oliver.

The door opened halfway to reveal Harvey standing in the hallway.

“Oh,” said Mike. “I … can I help you with something?”

Harvey pushed the door all the way open. The smile on his face was tentative and sheepish and utterly charming. “You seem to think you can.”

Mike shrugged, refusing to be charmed. He wasn’t about to waste any more breath trying to convince Harvey of something he’d already dismissed.

“The thing is,” Harvey continued, coming all the way inside and closing the door behind him, “I’ve been giving it some more thought, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t have much to lose by being your guinea pig.”

It took a moment for Mike’s brain to catch up with what Harvey was apparently requesting. “You wouldn’t, though. Be my guinea pig, I mean. Like I said, I’ve already had success with other people.”

“Still, you’re just an amateur.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you could pay me.”

“Seriously?”

Mike sighed. “No, that would probably be unethical, since I’m not licensed.” He squinted at Harvey. “This is a sincere request?”

“It is. I’m asking for your help.”

Tempting as it was to make him beg a little, Mike chose to take the high road. “That’s great, Harvey. I actually have time right now, or we could schedule it for another night this week.”

“Now, I think. I’m not sure I can go through another day like the one I just had.”

“Sure. That’s understandable. We can do it right here, if you don’t feel safe alone with me at your place or mine.”

“Funny. Of course, I feel safe. But yeah. Here is fine, as long as you’re sure we won’t be interrupted.”

“Have a seat.” Mike pointed at the folding chair in the corner. “I need to finish up some paperwork real quick and let Oliver know that I’ll be using the office a bit longer, and then we’re good to go.”

******

“Just close your eyes and listen to my voice.”

“What?” asked Harvey with a smirk. “No big, shiny pocket watch?”

“That’s not how this works.”

“How does it –”

“Harvey.”

“Okay, okay. Shutting up.”

Mike waited as Harvey settled into his chair, closed his eyes and expelled a long breath.

“Good. Now, all you have to do from here on out is listen to me and follow my instructions. I want you to relax and trust me.”

Harvey shifted, one side of his mouth tugging down in a frown.

“I know. A tall order, but the trust will come. For now, focus on relaxing. Don’t try to force anything. If you hear other voices, other noises on the other side of the door, allow them to enter your awareness and let them go. Breathe in and out through your nose. In and out, in and out. Now slow it down with a big inhale … and hold.” He waited several seconds “Let it out in a long, slow exhale. Do it again. And again. And again.”

Mike paused to allow Harvey time to adjust his breathing, noting how the tension left his face and his tight shoulders began to inch downwards. “Good. Very good. Keep breathing as you become fully aware of your physical body. How do you feel? Where are you holding your tension? Where are you free from tension? No need to answer out loud, I just want you to identify and focus on the part of your body which is most relaxed. Got it? Imagine that spot as a color and let that color, that sense of calm and relaxation seep into the rest of your body. Don’t rush it. Let it happen.”

Another pause, which gave him another chance to indulge himself in a long, searching perusal of Harvey’s face and body (for science). This might work better if Harvey were prone, instead of seated in a folding metal chair. In spite of this, he was responding better than Mike could have hoped.

“Good. Let the calm permeate every cell, loosening every muscle, and let it flow through you to the tips of your fingers, the end of your toes, the top of your head. Now, imagine it flowing down into the floor beneath you, pushing down like roots, further and further, anchoring you to the earth. You’re safe, you’re at peace, you feel a calmness that has eluded you lately. Your mind and your body are filled with warmth and light, and it feels wonderful, doesn’t it? Harvey? Nod your head once if you’re feeling good.”

After only the slightest hesitation, Harvey nodded.

“All right, now I want you to think of the place where you feel the safest and most at peace. A specific place where nothing can harm you, no one can intrude. It can be anywhere in the world. It’s up to you. Imagine you’re there right now. Visualize it, how it looks, how it feels, the scents and sounds of the place, the overwhelming sense of peace you get when you go there.”

He gave Harvey a minute or so to do this. “Where are you Harvey? Tell me.”

Harvey licked his lips, as if they had gone dry. “I’m running,” he murmured, sounding drugged. “I’m in the park. Dawn is breaking and the park is nearly empty. It’s autumn and the leaves are turning. The air is cool and moist, perfect running weather. No one knows where I am. My muscles are loose and warm and I could run forever.”

The yearning in Harvey’s voice was almost painful to hear. Clearly, this was a man on the edge, at the limits of his ability to cope.

Mike pulled himself together. “That’s good, Harvey. Thank you for sharing that with me. I want you to hold that image in your mind, especially when you leave here, and remember that anytime during the day when you start to feel stress and anxiety building, you can return to this place in your mind and recapture the sense of peace you’re feeling now. Nod if you understand.”

Harvey nodded.

“Excellent. You’re doing so well.” Mike observed with satisfaction Harvey’s newly tranquil expression. “Without leaving this place of safety and peace, keep listening to my voice. Now, I want you to place your right hand on your upper thigh and leave it there. Feel it, the warmth and the weight of it. Your hand is so heavy, pressing into your thigh, but you might be able to lift it if you really tried. Harvey? Lift your hand.”

A furrow appeared between Harvey’s brows. The tendons in his hand twitched, but it stayed where it was.

“Try harder. You can do it. Lift your hand.”

Harvey’s hand jerked and then seemed to float upwards.

“Good. Put it back down.”

The hand returned to Harvey’s leg.

“Very good, Harvey. Keep breathing and stay relaxed. What if I told you that hand was superglued to your leg? That there is no way you’re going to lift it now. Do you understand?”

A nod from Harvey.

“Are you sure? Try for me. Lift your hand.”

Harvey frowned and jerked his hand again and again, letting out a soft, frustrated grunt. The hand stayed where it was.

“It’s okay. You can stop struggling. Leave your hand where it is because it is exactly where it needs to be right now. You’re exactly where you need to be. Stop struggling and simply let things be. Keep breathing, in and out, slow and steady.”

Mike couldn’t help but be impressed with himself. Harvey had gone under even more easily than the two students he’d practiced on, and had proved extraordinarily suggestible. They’d achieved a lot already for their first time.

Mike continued talking for another ten minutes or so, reinforcing the idea of Harvey’s “happy place” and instructing him to access it when the stress grew too great. It would probably take several more sessions to deeply imbed the idea, making it almost second nature. He only hoped that Harvey would give him the chance.

Time to draw the session to a close, he judged. His pulse sped up as he realized how easy it would be to plant another post-hypnotic suggestion or two, perhaps emphasizing Harvey’s attraction to Mike, or undermining Harvey’s rules for one-night stands. Although tempting, it would absolutely cross the line, constituting an ethics violation egregious enough to have Mike’s license revoked if he were a professional. Even acknowledging this, when it was time to bring the session to an end, he hesitated long enough to send a panicky surge of adrenaline through him. He breathed through it and then, with an effort, placed his focus back on his desire to help Harvey.

“I’m going to bring you back. Keep breathing. Your body is heavier now, grounded and secure, fully present here in the office. You’re free to move your hand. The sense of peace remains and will stay with you when you leave. Do you understand?”

He waited for Harvey’s nod before continuing.

“I’m going to count down from ten to one. Each number will float in front of you, lit like a candle, flickering with golden light. As one extinguishes, another is lit. With each new number, you’ll grow more aware of your surroundings, more ready to rejoin the world. When we reach one, once you feel ready, you’ll open your eyes, still feeling relaxed and happy and safe. Okay, here we go. Ten. Nine. Eight ...”

******

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang out here a little longer?” Mike sat knee to knee with Harvey in the office, studying his face. He appeared slightly out of it but remained calm and relaxed. “I wouldn’t want you to wrap your car around a post on the way home.” Too late, it occurred to him that hypnotizing Harvey after he’d been drinking probably hadn’t been the wisest plan. It had worked out, but he needed to ensure that Harvey made it home in one piece.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harvey. “I didn’t drive here, and I’ll grab a cab home.”

For the first time in years, Mike wished he knew how to drive, and that he owned a car. That would have given him an excuse to offer Harvey a ride. He tried the next best thing. “I could come with you, make sure you get home okay.”

Harvey just shook his head. “I’m good. More than good, thanks to you.” He smiled lazily. “I can’t believe just a bit of talking could have this effect on me.” He tilted his head to one side, his smile growing slightly uncertain. “You didn’t do anything to me that I don’t remember, did you?”

“Of course not.” It had been a near thing, though. Having Harvey pliable and highly suggestible in front of him had been more tempting than he could have imagined. At least he’d passed that test, he told himself.

“Well, good. It’s weird. I could hear you the whole time. I never fell asleep. It’s like you … like it was … I don’t know. I just wanted to do whatever you asked of me.” He paused, something seeming to occur to him. “Huh. Could I learn to use that on my opponents at work?” He appeared to be at least fifty percent serious.

“Uh, no. That would be beyond unethical. _Way_ over the line. I mean, unless you were intending to go the whole supervillain route?”

“I’m sure you could find plenty of people who’d tell you I already have. But no. I take your point.” He gave Mike a long stare, his smile softening. “If I ever mocked your course of study and chosen profession, let me take this opportunity to humbly apologize.”

“If?” Mike chuckled. “I’m not sure you’ve ever done anything humbly in your life, but I’ll take it.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “And now, since you seem capable of getting yourself home in one piece, and it looks like I won’t be getting laid tonight –”

“Mike.”

“Kidding, Harvey. Kidding.” He wasn’t kidding. Sitting in the tiny room so close to Harvey for so long had turned out to be an exquisite sort of torture, and he’d endured enough. “I do have to get going though. My first class is at eight tomorrow morning.”

They both stood. Harvey reached past him and opened the door, bringing them practically chest to chest for a brief moment. “After you,” he said, and then followed Mike from the office. He paused when they reached the main room of the bar. “Can we do this again?”

“What? Oh, right. The hypnotherapy. Of course. I mean, see how you feel tomorrow, and for the next couple of days. If you still want to continue, let me know. You can reach me here every evening except Wednesday and Thursday, or on my cell.” They exchanged numbers. “Stop by or give me a call and we can set up a schedule.”

“You really should let me pay you for your time.”

“You can pay me by giving me feedback on how the therapy works out. For science. And my senior thesis. That would actually be incredibly helpful.”

Harvey thought about it for a second, and then nodded. “That seems fair.” He touched Mike on the side of his arm. “Thanks again. And if I was a dick before –”

“You were.”

“ _When_ I was a dick before, I was, well, a dick. I’m sorry.”

Mike waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll call you.”

Mike just nodded, not trusting his voice. He would have given anything to hear Harvey say those words six months ago in a different context. At least this was something, a way to spend time with him on a regular basis, but right now it felt like a consolation prize. He watched Harvey walk out the door, almost wishing he’d planted just one, little, tiny, harmless (nearly harmless) post-hypnotic suggestion.

******

Mike was off work for the next two days and didn’t hear from Harvey until Friday. He had plenty of other things to keep his mind occupied. The final semester of his undergraduate studies at NYU were barreling towards their hectic climax. It would have been great to take time off from his job to study full time, but he was barely squeaking by financially as it was. It was fine, though. He knew he could handle the pressure. This is how his life had been ever since he’d finally shrugged off the cheating scandal at Columbia and determined to put his life back together. It was going to look different than the original plan of law school, but after observing all of the unhappy, stressed out attorneys drinking away their problems for over three years at _Duces Tecum_ , he believed he’d made the correct choice.

When he got out of his last class for the week and checked his phone, he was pleased to find several missed calls from Harvey. Calling him back immediately, he barely had a chance to say hello before Harvey was speaking over him.

“When can we meet again? This needs to be a regular thing. Once a week at least. More, if you’re agreeable.”

Mike suppressed his first instinct, which was to gloat and perhaps throw in an _I told you so_ or two. Instead he said, voice carefully neutral, “I take it our session the other night has met with some success?”

“Yes. Absolutely it has. For the first couple of days, at least. Wolf and Hardman came at me within hours of one another on Wednesday, and I kept my cool. No anxiety whatsoever. Without your help, I’m betting I would have been thrown into a full-blown panic attack.”

Mike gave a triumphant, silent fist pump, ignoring the curious looks of other students passing him on the sidewalk. “It, uh, gratifies me to hear that. You mentioned the first couple of days, though. What happened after that?”

“The effects wore off. By this morning, I could feel my blood pressure spiking again, and the familiar low-level anxiety was back.”

“That’s a fairly typical pattern. With repeated sessions, the coping mechanisms I’ve given you will be reinforced and should eventually become second nature.” He paused for a few seconds, so as not to appear too eager. “I believe I can make room in my schedule for two one-hour sessions per week. At some point in the future we may decide to cut that back to once a week.” Far, far in the future, he hoped.

“That’s great, Mike. I really appreciate this. I’ll mention again that I’d be happy to pay –”

“Let me stop you right there. I posed that hypothetical to one of my professors, and his opinion is that it would be grossly unethical. I’m already skirting the line of practicing without a license. If I accepted financial remuneration, I could theoretically be brought up on charges.”

“We can’t have that.” Harvey’s tone suggested that he’d still do it in a heartbeat if Mike agreed.

“Maybe instead of direct payment, you could feed me. I am a starving student, after all. At least for a few more months.” He let out a rough laugh. “After that, I’ll be a starving, unemployed, debt-laden former student.”

“Starving? You looked pretty healthy to me when –” Harvey broke off, but Mike was certain he was thinking about “that one time.”

“Do we have a deal or not?” asked Mike.

“We do. What’s your schedule like this weekend? Do you think we could start Sunday night?”

“Sure. That’s a good idea. Right before the new work week. Where?”

“My place. You remember where that is, I’m assuming.”

“Of course.”

“At least let me pay for your cab fare.”

“Nah. I’ve got my bike. Riding it helps keep me looking … healthy.”

Harvey was silent for a little too long. When he spoke again, it was to change the subject. “Anything I need to do to prepare?”

“Nope. Just wear something loose and comfortable.”

“Noted.”

“See you Sunday.”

******

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror Sunday afternoon, Mike gave his reflection a dissatisfied sneer. After fussing with his appearance and outfit for close to an hour, he still looked like exactly what he was – a broke college student in jeans, t-shirt and a scruffy haircut. He’d even tried adding the cheap sports coat he’d worn at his grandmother’s funeral, but that hadn’t been an improvement. Sighing, he turned away. It’s not like this was a date. He had hoped for a slightly more professional look, but Harvey knew who he was and how he normally dressed. He’d have to save the wardrobe upgrade for after he graduated and could pick up more shifts at the bar – or paying clients.

An hour later, he was riding the elevator up to Harvey’s place, on the verge of a panic attack of his own. He’d been here before, on that one night, but he’d also been half-drunk and in the grips of a major lust fog and hadn’t taken close notice of his surroundings. Today, in the sober light of early evening, he was forced to confront just how far out of his league Harvey was.

Mike had only seen Harvey in his expensive suits – and naked that one time – but when he answered the door to Mike’s knock, he wore a grey t-shirt and loose track pants, having followed Mike’s suggestion. Trailing him inside, Mike had to make a concerted effort not to let his mouth fall open in amazement at the _Architectural Digest_ level furnishings and killer view. The fireplace, set in an entire wall of stone, looked wide enough to lie down in, if it hadn’t been currently lit with a wall of flames which might have been straight from Satan’s own living room.

Glancing between the couch and recliner, Mike wordlessly indicated that Harvey should choose one. Harvey stretched out in the recliner, hands folded over this stomach, and closed his eyes. Mike sat across from him on the couch and, not wasting any time, began talking, starting off much as he had last time, guiding him through relaxation techniques and testing his level of suggestibility. It didn’t take him long to put Harvey under. He took him deeper this time, and although he was clearly close to falling asleep, Mike kept him right on the edge, repeating and reinforcing the lessons he had taught him at their first session.

Once again, he was struck by how easy it would be to influence Harvey when he was in this vulnerable state, to plant a notion in his mind, or even to make him do things right here and now. Mike allowed himself to and imagine it, feeling a rush of equal parts guilt and heat. He could order Harvey to do something harmless like take off his shirt, nothing more than that.

_What could it hurt, really?_

Before the notion had time to lodge in his brain, he rejected it. He would never actually do such a thing. Sure, it was fun to think about, but was also such a violation of trust that he could barely wrap his mind around it. Even so, his mouth twisted into a smile. Something to fantasize about later. A new scenario for his ever-expanding Harvey spank bank.

“Okay, Harvey,” he murmured, “time to come back. Listen to my voice while I count down from ten.”

As promised, Harvey ordered dinner for them when they were done – once he was lucid enough to work his phone. It was just burgers and onion rings, but they were damn good. Mike was still scarfing down his meal when Harvey stood and stretched languidly, a soft smile on his face.

“I think I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“Oh. Okay.” Was that code for something? Was Harvey giving him a signal? “Should I …?”

“Finish your dinner first.” He turned and left the room.

Mike chewed mechanically. Who left in the middle of dinner to take a shower? Unless … Did Harvey just …?

His heart began to beat faster as hope and excitement lit his insides. Could this be Harvey’s way of indicating his desire to break his cardinal rule of hookups with Mike? He looked at the onion ring in his hand, down the hall to the bathroom, and back at his hand. If that’s what was happening here, what the hell was Mike waiting for?

He tossed the onion ring onto his plate and sprinted down the hall, skidding to a halt in front of the bathroom door. He could hear the shower running inside. All he had to do was turn the knob, walk inside and join Harvey in the shower. He glanced down at his clothes. It might ruin his dramatic – and hopefully sexy – entrance if he had to fumble out of his clothes with Harvey looking on. Okay, then. Plan B.

He shucked his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, and then reached for the doorknob. Nerves assailed him. He took a moment to compose himself, slowing his breathing, wishing he had the time for a little self-hypnosis to calm himself. He wouldn’t have to strain at all to imagine his happy place. It was right on the other side of the door. He rehearsed in his head what he would say when he barged into the room.

Finally, fearing he’d lose his chance if he kept stalling, he threw the door open and strode inside. Harvey’s body was a wet blur behind fogged up glass. Mike could hear him humming as he washed himself, could just make out hands moving over his soapy body. With one more bracing breath, he walked across the room and yanked open the shower door, releasing a cloud of steam.

“Hey there. Join if I mind you?”

Harvey froze, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Excuse me?”

Mike replayed his words in his mind and cringed. “I mean, mind if I join you?”

Harvey hadn’t moved, either to cover himself or to make room for Mike in the shower. His expression darkened. “What the fuck, Mike? How many times do I have to explain this to you? This is never going to happen.”

“But I thought –”

“No. You thought wrong. Now get the hell out.”

Mortified, Mike nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to leave. He paused only long enough to struggle into his clothes before fleeing in bare feet. He crammed his feet into his shoes on the elevator ride down. He’d left his socks behind and wrote them off as a loss. No way was he going back there.

His agitation fueled the long bike ride home. He berated himself nonstop for half the distance and then switched to cursing Harvey for his arrogance and coldness. It wasn’t as if Mike had been asking for a long-term commitment. He’d only been looking for a replay of that one great night they’d spent together. Sure, Harvey had every right to turn him down, but did he have to be so cutting and dismissive about it? He clearly did not believe Mike was worthy of him.

This thought cooled Mike’s rage somewhat, and sent him plummeting into depression, because Harvey was right. Mike was just a scruffy college student, and Harvey was … _Harvey._ Gorgeous, perfect Harvey. It must have irked him that Mike was the only one who’d been able to help him with his panic attacks. It must have been a blow to his ego to admit to that weakness. Now that he knew what worked, he wouldn’t need Mike anymore.

“Fuck,” he bit out as he closed his door with a bit too much force. Not only had he ruined his hookup chances with Harvey, he’d all but insured that he wouldn’t want to continue their sessions. This was disappointing on a personal level but would also derail Mike’s plans for his senior project. He’d have to scramble for another test subject.

He paced up and down the length of his living room, searching for a solution. Maybe there was another stressed out lawyer at _Duces Tecum_ who would be willing to be hypnotized. Harold might do in a pinch, but where was the challenge in that? He’d probably do just about anything Mike asked, even without hypnosis. As test subjects went, he’d be a major downgrade from Harvey.

He’d figure something out. He always did.

******

Mike did not have to resort to Harold. To his great surprise, Harvey phoned him Wednesday morning to confirm their session for that night. He didn’t mention what had happened on Sunday, although his voice was markedly reserved. Taking his cue from Harvey, Mike agreed in a voice every bit as mechanical and businesslike.

After hanging up, he stared at the wall of his apartment for a good ten minutes, debating whether or not to roll over, go back to sleep, and blow off his classes for the day.

He didn’t go back to sleep. The call from Harvey had dredged up all the humiliation and, yes, the anger he’d been pushing down since Sunday night. The rejection had been bad enough, but it was the scornful edge to Harvey’s voice that would stick with him for a long while.

Too agitated to relax, he groaned and climbed to his feet, ready to get the day over with.

When he showed up at Harvey’s place on Wednesday, it was almost as if that little scene in Harvey’s bathroom had never happened. Harvey let him into his apartment with a curt nod and then settled himself in the recliner. He was dressed much the same as the last time, in t-shirt and track pants. Following Harvey’s example, Mike got right down to business, leading Harvey through the same exercises as before. Again, he went right under, no muss, no fuss.

Once Harvey was completely relaxed, his breathing slow and even, Mike got up to go into the kitchen. He was thirsty from his ride over and was also finding it difficult to concentrate with Harvey stretched out like a feast in front of him. Fixing himself a glass of ice water, he downed it in a few gulps while watching Harvey from across the room, feeling unreasonably annoyed at Harvey for being so outlandishly handsome, and feeling even more annoyed at himself for his ridiculous fascination with the man. Flashes of memory from Sunday stoked his resentment, that look of pure scorn and disbelief when Mike had opened the shower door. Mike set the glass on the counter and returned to stand in front of Harvey.

_Maybe I should order him to punch himself in the face._

He nearly snickered out loud at the image this conjured. Of course, he would never do that. Still, he couldn’t quite shed the malicious impulse. He sat on the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as a different sort of petty revenge began to take shape in his mind. He tried to convince himself it would be harmless, and when that didn’t work, he decided he didn’t care.

“Keep breathing, Harvey. We’re going to go deeper now. The only thing you hear is the sound of my voice. Focus on that as I count from one to five. Visualize each number as I speak it out loud. Once I get to five, from that point on, you won’t remember anything that I say, or anything that happens. When we’re done, I’ll reverse the count, from five to one. When I reach one, I’ll speak the word ‘popcorn,’ and this will be the signal that you will begin to remember once again. Nod your head if you understand.”

Harvey nodded without hesitation.

Mike counted, his heart accelerating with each succeeding number. Was he really doing this?

“Five,” he murmured. He watched Harvey closely for a few seconds. “Can you hear me?”

Another nod from Harvey.

“Good. You’re completely relaxed now. You feel good. Every part of you is warm and loose and free from stress.” He waited a couple of seconds. “Your feet are relaxed, your calves, your knees, your thighs.” He continued, moving up Harvey’s body, listing each part. “You’re floating, loose and relaxed.” A beat of silence. “Except for your dick.” Harvey’s forehead tightened briefly. “It’s okay,” Mike soothed. “It’s good. You’re calm and happy and as every second ticks by, you’re feeling more and more excited, more and more turned on. Do you feel it?”

He could hear the change in Harvey’s breathing as it grew quicker and shallower. Allowing his gaze to drift to Harvey’s groin, he bit his lip at the noticeable bulge which hadn’t been there seconds earlier. All of a sudden, it became hard to swallow.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” he murmured.

After a moment, Harvey gave a jerky nod.

“Then do it. Touch yourself through your pants.”

Mike held his breath, waiting to see if Harvey would obey. His brow furrowed, as if confused, but then his hand moved to his crotch and he cupped himself.

 _That’s enough_. This is what Mike meant to say. Instead, the words he heard coming out of his mouth were, “Stroke yourself. Harder. Put your hand inside your pants. Take out your dick and stroke it. Get yourself good and hard.”

It was like an out of body experience, watching Harvey perform for him. Guilt, shame and lust swirled like a toxic brew inside of him. He’d started this as a form of revenge, but it had already gone farther than he’d intended.

Harvey arched up, his hand moving faster, quick urgent grunts working their way out of his throat.

_Oh, God. He’s going to come._

Without realizing what he was doing, Mike’s hand had crept to the front of his own pants, pressing his heel down, rubbing his hardening cock. It wouldn’t take much more than this to make himself come. He and Harvey together, almost as good as –

A vision filled his mind of bringing Harvey back and having him discover both of them had come in their pants. That would be, to put it mildly, very bad. He snatched has hand away.

“Wait,” he practically shouted. “Harvey, stop moving. Freeze.”

Harvey did as ordered, but groaned as if in pain, his expression tight and tortured. And holy hell, even that was a good look on him. Really fucking good. Mike went hot all over imagining having an unhypnotized Harvey in his power, just like this.

It was tempting to continue, but he realized that if he took this any further, Harvey would surely know. He needed to say something, to bring Harvey out of it, but for long moments he couldn’t stop staring, and even considered grabbing his phone to snap a few pictures. Thankfully, sanity reasserted itself.

“It’s okay,” he finally managed to get out. “You’re okay. Just relax. Remember your breathing. In and out. Slow, deep and steady. That’s right. Fix your pants. Good. Now, I want you to place both hands on your thighs. You’re relaxed, tranquil, stress-free. Anxiety is a thing of the past. When you wake up, you’ll have no memory of what happened in the last few minutes. You’ll be calm, happy, and ready for a good night’s sleep. I’m going to count down from five to one and then speak the word that will bring you back to full awareness. Can you tell me what word that is?”

“Popcorn,” Harvey murmured.

“Excellent. Okay, here we go. Five. You’re becoming aware of your surroundings. Four. Other sounds besides my voice begin to filter in. Three. You’re oriented in space and time. Two. Your body is loose and relaxed and filled with light. One. Open your eyes. And … _popcorn._ ”

Harvey blinked and blinked, finally focusing his gaze on Mike. “Wow,” he said, smiling softly. “That was … amazing. I feel fantastic.” Seconds later his serene expression changed to one of amused chagrin as he glanced down at the obvious bulge in his pants. “A little too fantastic, I guess.”

Mike waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” It had never happened before, nor had he read about it being a common occurrence. He jerked a thumb towards the door. “I’m going to go ahead and take off.”

“You don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Nah. I’m going to be up half the night studying. I’ve got three chapters on the chemistry of cognitive maps to plow through.”

Harvey nodded his understanding. “I’ll owe you one.” He frowned. “Hey, did you do something different this time?”

Mike knew he had a terrible poker face, but he did his best not to give anything away. “Why? Do you feel different?”

“Yeah. I mean, I felt good after our first two sessions, but this time I feel really great.”

Mike had no doubt he would have felt even better if he’d allowed him to finish. Maybe he should have. “Um. Good. Thank you for sharing that. Any input helps with my study.” He put on what he hoped was a scholarly, thoughtful expression. “I’d theorize that what you’re experiencing is a cumulative effect. Each time I put you under, you go deeper and faster.” He reddened at his own choice of words.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Harvey sat up and stretched his arms over his head, revealing an enticing band of toned abs. “Whatever you’re doing, I want you to continue doing it.”

“You do?”

“You can’t argue with results.”

“Ha. I guess not.” Mike took a nervous step toward the door. “See you Sunday?”

Harvey stood up and advanced on Mike. “Absolutely. I look forward to it.”

Was it Mike’s imagination, or had Harvey’s voice gone a little deeper, a little huskier?

Following Mike to the door, Harvey stood right behind him as he fumbled with the knob. He got the door open and made his escape into the hallway.

“Oh, and Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Make time for dinner on Sunday. In fact, come over a little earlier so you’ll have time to stay a while. After we’re done, I’ll order you whatever you want.”

Mike gave a brisk wave as he hurried toward the elevator. “Yep.” He was about two seconds away from detonating with guilt and confessing everything. Why was Harvey being so nice to him? As the elevator doors shut (had they been this slow before?) Harvey continued to stand in his doorway staring at him.

******

Mike spent much of the next few days searching his soul (his dirty, filthy soul), and ultimately concluded that the line he had crossed must not be crossed again. “I am a terrible person,” he berated himself over and over.

He berated himself even more harshly after he got himself off – twice – while picturing Harvey at his mercy, completely open to any instruction Mike choose to give him.

“Get on your knees,” he gasped with his eyes squinched shut.

Behind his eyelids, the scene played out. Harvey dropped gracefully to his knees, chest heaving with excitement. He rested his hands on Mike’s thighs and gazed adoringly up at him, seeking permission.

“Do it,” Mike grunted, hand down his pants and stroking for all he was worth.

Harvey lowered his head and licked his way wetly up Mike’s cock.

“I said, do it, you fucking tease.”

Hot, damp suction enveloped his cock as Harvey swallowed him and worked him expertly with lips, tongue and throat. It took only seconds. Mike exploded, arching up off his couch, his choked cries puncturing the illusion.

He opened his eyes to find himself alone in his living room, panting and sticky, hollowed out.

“Idiot,” he muttered, grimacing down at the mess he’d made. Half-heartedly, he tried to conjure up an image of Harvey being forced to lick it all up but could not get it to coalesce. Mike was no longer the one in charge. He was a just pathetic creeper whose chances with Harvey seemed further away than ever.

******

Mike and Harvey fell into a predictable routine over the next few weeks. On Sundays and Wednesdays Mike showed up at Harvey’s place, conducted a hypnotherapy session, and then they ate dinner together, sometimes in companionable silence, but more and more often animatedly discussing anything and everything that had happened to them in the intervening days. Mike talked about his professors and fellow students, and some of the more amusing customers at _Duces Tecum_. Harvey opened up about his clients without mentioning any names, and his run-ins with both opponents and colleagues. The power struggle at his firm had been resolved, due mainly to his expert negotiating, and he’d finally won his case against Wolf.

“All thanks to you,” he told Mike, toasting him with his beer bottle.

Mike smiled tightly, unable to meet Harvey’s gaze. “I just helped you be more … you. That’s all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You did more for me than three of the city’s top-rated mental health professionals were able to do. You’ve got a real gift.”

Mike was quiet for half a minute, soaking up the praise and wrestling down his guilt. “You know, it surprised me, how easily you went under.”

Harvey’s brow crinkled. “Why’s that?”

“You’re so … you know, alpha male, bending the world to your will. Always the guy in charge. I hoped I’d be able to hypnotize you, but I figured you’d go down fighting.”

Harvey let out an odd sounding laugh. “Why would I do that? Being the alpha male guy in charge is not actually all it’s cracked up to be. Spending all day, every day, keeping yourself battle ready is fucking exhausting.” He shrugged and took a swig of beer. “I like it, giving it all over to you for two hours a week. It’s like a mini-vacation.” He eyed Mike shrewdly. “I’ll bet you like it, too.”

Luckily, Mike did not have anything in his mouth just then, or he would have likely choked on it. The truth was he didn’t just like it, he craved it. He may have felt like a sleaze that first time he crossed the line, but that hadn’t stopped him from crossing it again and again over the last few weeks.

At first, it was usually just a suggestion or a nudge: “You feel a strong attraction to me.” Or a slightly stronger suggestion: “The next time you’re feeling stressed at work, imagine yourself fucking me over your desk.”

As he become more daring, or after an especially dismissive remark from Harvey, he pushed it further, having Harvey undress in front of him, touch himself, “confess” his admiration for Mike. In the beginning, he stopped Harvey before things got completely out of hand. Getting caught was not an option. Eventually, though, in the way of all addictions, he needed more. After a week spent considering all the angles, he came up with a plan which worked.

Once he had Harvey as deep and suggestible as he could get him, he ordered him into the bedroom and had him undress completely. Then he instructed him to lie down on the bed and masturbate himself to orgasm and come into the towel that Mike had brought with him.

Harvey was stunningly beautiful as he stroked himself, panting, grunting, biting his lower lip, arching up and finally spilling obediently into the towel. After he was done, Mike placed the towel in a garbage bag, tied it off and stowed it in his messenger bag to be tossed in the nearest dumpster after he left. He felt like a criminal cleaning up a crime scene, which wasn’t all that far off from reality.

When he had Harvey dressed again and lying on the recliner, he brought him out of it, sick with guilt and fear that having gone so far, he’d be caught out and be forced to face the consequences. That didn’t happen. Harvey opened his eyes, a sleepy, satisfied expression on his face, and smiled up at Mike in a disturbingly post-coital manner.

“Mmm,” he murmured, “that was incredible. I feel amazing.” His dark eyes shone with warmth. “You outdid yourself, Mike.”

Mike had to look away, afraid his face would give him away. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. I guess I’m really starting to get the hang of it.” His gaze fell momentarily on his messenger bag, and he felt himself blush.

“Starting to?” Harvey chuckled. “You’re a natural. The best decision I ever made was letting you inside my head.”

He knew he didn’t deserve the praise, but it still felt damn good. “Yeah, well …”

“What do you want for dinner? Go wild. Order whatever you want.”

Even if his appetite hadn’t deserted him, Mike couldn’t stay. He needed to get out of there. “I think I’m going to pass tonight.”

Harvey rose slowly to his feet, frowning. “What? Why? I need to do something to reward you for your performance.”

Only it wasn’t Mike who had been doing the performing. He was certain his face had gone bright red. “Rain check. Seriously. School. Books to read. Papers to write.” He was already at the door, with one arm in his coat sleeve.

“You’re nearly done with all that, right?”

“About a month and a half to go. Crunch time.”

“Down to the wire, huh? I admire your dedication. When you’re finished, I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Sounds good.” He opened the door.

“Mike, wait.”

 _Oh shit._ He knew. He’d remembered. Mike turned around, braced for the worst. “Look, Harvey …”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Aren’t I … what?”

“Your bag.” Harvey nodded at the end of the couch, where Mike’s messenger bag still sat.

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Guess I need that.”

Mike made a move toward the bag, but Harvey was faster. He lifted it by the strap and held it out to Mike.

“Thanks.” Mike took the bag from him and settled the strap across his chest. He didn’t dare look down at it, fearful of seeing an incriminating wet patch on the front, or that it had suddenly turned transparent. “Gotta go. See you next time.”

When he heard the door close behind him, he broke into a run for the elevator.

After each of these episodes, Mike spent the next few days (in between frenzied study sessions) agonizing over whether or not he should continue with Harvey. By now, it wasn’t so much that he feared being found out. If Harvey hadn’t remembered what happened after the first time, Mike was certain he could get away with just about anything. And that was precisely the problem. Every time he told himself it was enough, that he needed to stop, he went ahead and did it again. Evidently, he couldn’t trust himself to behave, and it frightened him to think what the next step might be along his depraved path.

Despite all the hours of soul searching and self-recrimination, he continued to show up at Harvey’s place.

On this Wednesday night, Harvey seemed pleased to see him, smiling warmly at Mike as he never would have done a few weeks earlier. As he always did, Mike asked him a few questions about the intervening days since their last session and jotted down the information to include in his study. Based on Harvey’s answers, he was satisfied that the hypnotherapy was doing its job, and that Harvey was still oblivious to Mike’s darker impulses.

Harvey took his place on the recliner and Mike started in with his normal patter, getting Harvey relaxed, guiding him to that sweet spot of suggestibility. He intended to stay strong this time and conduct a conventional hypnotherapy session.

Then it happened. Mike was speaking in the soothing monotone he’d perfected over the past few weeks, when without being prompted, Harvey grimaced as if in pain, shifted on the recliner, and reached into his pants to touch himself. Mike froze midsentence, unable to do anything for several seconds besides stare.

He pressed his lips together but couldn’t stop the low moan that escaped him. Immediately after, Harvey let out an answering moan of his own and dragged the front of his pants down so that his cock sprang into full, erect view. He stroked as enthusiastically and uninhibitedly as he might have done if he’d been alone in his bed.

It took a moment for Mike’s brain to unfreeze and start working again. He was torn between ordering Harvey to stop and urging him on. He hadn’t come prepared with a towel this time, but he also hadn’t initiated Harvey’s actions tonight. Still, if he was brought out of hypnosis to find himself sticky with his own cum, he might start asking questions.

Of course, there was an obvious solution.

( _Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it._ )

The image formed in Mike’s mind of himself kneeling between Harvey’s legs, taking him in his mouth, him, tasting him, swallowing down all the incriminating evidence. Almost as if he were in a trance of his own, he rose slowly and moved toward Harvey.

 _Wait,_ whispered his remaining vestiges of reason. _Wait and think about what you’re about to do._ This would not simply be crossing another line. It would be leaping across a chasm with no way back.

He was shaking, his armpits damp with sweat. What the fuck was he doing? He took a step back, and then another and another until the back of his legs hit the couch. His knees gave out and he dropped onto the seat. Across from him, Harvey was still at it. Instead of exciting him, the sight now made Mike physically ill. The fog had finally melted away and he recognized his own depravity for what it was.

“Harvey,” he said sharply, “stop. Listen to the sound of my voice. You need to stop. You are not going to come.”

Harvey’s hand slowed, but he didn’t stop. He made a low, discontented sound and continued to stroke himself.

 _Shit._ What now? Fighting down panic, Mike counseled himself to remain calm. “Harvey, listen to me. I know it feels good to, er, do what you’re doing, but that’s not what we’re here for. Remember, I’m in charge here. I’m going to count own from three to one, and when I’m finished, you will release yourself and fix your clothes. It will be as if this never happened. You’ll remember nothing, and will wake feeling refreshed, calm and happy.”

He knew he was hurrying things. Normally, he took longer to bring Harvey out of trance. His panic was partly due to the fear of being caught, but most of it was caused by the realization of how close he had come to … to what? Assaulting Harvey? Just thinking the word made him go cold all over. He rushed through the countdown, and then held his breath until Harvey had tucked himself away and smoothed his t-shirt over his pants.

“Okay, Harvey. Wake up now.”

Harvey’s eyes remained shut.

“Uh, popcorn. That’s your cue. Wake up.”

After an agonizingly long several seconds, Harvey’s eyes opened. His expression was one of confusion and maybe a touch of pain. The look he gave Mike was not accusatory, and that was all Mike needed to see. Time for a hasty exit.

“Look, I’m sorry Harvey, but I’ve got to take off. I forgot about some school stuff I need to take care of.”

Harvey lowered the footrest of the recliner and sat up. “What? We haven’t had dinner yet.”

“No time.” He had his jacket in his hand and was out the door before Harvey could protest any further. As he sprinted for the elevator, a half-hysterical laugh bubbled up out of this throat. How many times had he fled Harvey’s place in a panic? It was starting to become a habit, but this was the last time. He wouldn’t be coming back. Not ever. If the universe held an ounce of compassion, he would never have to face Harvey again.

******

The next day, Mike composed and deleted a text to Harvey six times before he was satisfied with it. He hit send and immediately turned off the phone.

The text read: _Thanks for helping me with my senior project. I have all the necessary data, so no need to continue. Good luck_.

It was abrupt, he knew, but he hoped Harvey would get the message. He could have broken things off in person, or spoken to him on the phone, but knew that in either case his voice and his face would betray him.

Unfortunately, hoping had never gotten him anywhere in life, and the universe was run by uncaring assholes. When Harvey showed up at the bar Friday night, Mike was half-expecting it.

His shift was over, and he was finishing up some paperwork in the office. One short knock on the door was his only warning before it opened. Harvey stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a dark grey suit and power tie, every hair on his head in place. He also wore his impenetrable poker face, giving Mike little clue as to how this meeting – or confrontation – might unfold.

Without being invited, Harvey entered the office, closed the door, and leaned against it, preventing escape.

“Um, hello to you too,” said Mike. “I take it this visit has something to do with my text?”

“You take it right. You owe me an explanation.”

“I said everything I needed to say in –”

“You didn’t say shit.” And there it was, the first crack in Harvey’s composure.

“I disagree. I’ve terminated our arrangement, and you have to accept that.” The reality of his decision hit hard as he heard his own words spoken out loud with more conviction than he felt. Never see Harvey again? Is that really what he wanted?

Harvey skewered him with a withering look that had probably intimidated more than a few opponents over the years. “I can’t force you to continue, that’s true, but I have a few things I want to say before I go, and you’re going to hear them.”

Mike mentally braced himself for the worst. Harvey’s actual words were not what he expected.

“Mike, I cannot possibly overstate the value of what you’ve given me. For the first time in … I don’t know how long … maybe for the first time ever, I feel centered and in control of my emotions. I’ve always had an aptitude for controlling others, but lately I’ve been walking a tightrope. I’d grown really fucking good at disguising my anxiety as something else – anger, contempt, indifference. Then you came along and changed all that. So, if this truly is the end of our time together, I wanted you to know that, and to say thank you.”

Mike had no clue how to respond. He may have helped Harvey, but he’d also deceived him, betrayed his trust, and very nearly … Well, never mind that. He hadn’t followed through, but that didn’t exactly absolve his behavior. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, keeping his gaze glued firmly to the desktop. “It was an honor. Or something.”

Harvey seemed to find that amusing. “An honor?”

“Whatever. A privilege. I was glad to help. So …” Mike gestured vaguely at the door, hoping Harvey would get the message and leave.

Chuckling, Harvey settled himself more comfortably against the door. “I’m dismissed. Is that it?”

It was, but Mike didn’t say so out loud. He continued to stare fixedly down at the desk.

“Sorry, Mike. Not quite yet. There are a couple other things you need to hear. Let’s start with the fact that you’re not the only one around here who does his homework.”

Where was Harvey going with this? “Of course,” Mike said. “You have to prepare for cases, for trial. So what?”

“You don’t you think I did my homework where you’re concerned? And where hypnosis is concerned? I was putting myself in your hands, putting myself at your mercy, as it were. I didn’t get to where I am as a lawyer by leaving things to chance. Trust can only get you so far.”

Mike rubbed his face, wearying of the conversation. “Would you mind getting to the point? I still have hours of reading to finish before I can sleep tonight.”

“I studied up on hypnosis and hypnotherapy, and I learned a few interesting facts. Number one, there is nothing magical or occult about it. It’s based on the hypnotist’s ability to relax the subject enough to open him up for suggestion. How well he succeeds has a lot to do with the subject’s susceptibility.”

“Congratulations, you just completed the easiest essay question on my Psych 101 exam.”

“Second, the subject can still hear everything. If asked by the hypnotist, he’ll focus closely on his voice, but his auditory sense continues to function just fine.”

Mike let out an impatient sigh, which had no discernible effect on Harvey.

“Third, and most important, the hypnotist cannot force the subject to do anything he does not wish to do.”

This captured Mike’s attention. It was true, of course, but somehow he’d managed to overlook that fact during his sessions with Harvey. He finally looked up to meet Harvey’s gaze, and found him staring back at him with an odd expression, calm and thoughtful and something else. Fond? No, that couldn’t be right. Even as he thought this, Harvey’s mouth stretched into a smile that seemed to snag something in Mike’s chest.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Mike?”

“Not even a little.” But that was a lie. He was certain what Harvey was driving at, and it made him want to curl up under the desk to hide his shame. Harvey was telling him that he was aware of everything Mike had done and said to him while under hypnosis. Which begged the obvious question: why had Harvey continued to allow it, and why was he here now, speaking in perfectly composed tones, and not showing any inclination to punch Mike’s lights out?

Harvey tilted his head to the side, considering Mike with narrow-eyed solemnity. “I think you understand just fine.”

Mike shrugged helplessly. “What do you want? An apology?”

That elicited a growl of frustration from Harvey. He started to speak, but then pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Okay, Harvey. Look, I know what I did was wrong. So, yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just …”

“Just what?”

“Nothing. My first instinct is to try to justify myself, but I’m completely in the wrong here. Could we pretend it never happened, and go our separate ways?”

Harvey shook his head slowly.

Mike’s heart began to beat with alarm. If Harvey hadn’t been blocking the door, he might have tried to make a run for it, but there was no way out of this. He did what he did, and now it was time to take his punishment.

He lifted his chin and pointed at it. “Go on then. Hit me. I know you want to. It’s the least I deserve.” He braced himself, already feeling the blow from Harvey’s fist reverberating through him and dropping him to the ground.

Harvey didn’t hit him. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, as if seeking guidance from above. After a few seconds, he looked back at Mike. “Don’t you get it? A smart guy like you?”

Mike relaxed slightly, and then tensed up again as another possibility occurred to him. “You’re not going to sue me, are you? You get the part where I’m a poor, starving student, right?” Of course, Harvey could always sue for future income, which had the potential to be significant.

“Jesus, Mike. I’m not going to sue you. I’m not going to hit you. I just want you to agree to continue with our sessions.”

Mike’s mind went temporarily blank. Harvey might as well have been speaking a foreign language for all the sense he was making. “Why?” he managed to get out.

“Because I liked it.”

“You liked … what?”

“Being controlled by you. Doing the things you made me do.”

Mike gaped at him. “According to you, I didn’t make you do anything. The control wasn’t even real.”

“But it felt real. It felt as if I had no choice.” He bit his lip, dark eyes gleaming, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “It was really fucking hot. I wish you hadn’t stopped. I wish you’d gone further.” He took a step toward Mike. “Why did you stop, that last time?”

Mike could feel the heat rising off Harvey. “I-I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

Mike met his gaze and held it. It was clear that Harvey would settle for nothing less than total honesty, so Mike took a stab at it. “I stopped because I didn’t think I could live with myself if I continued.”

“What if I gave you permission?”

Mike slumped in his chair. “It wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

Because he wanted more from Harvey than this. He wanted something real and enduring. He wanted a boyfriend, god damn it. A partner. What Harvey was offering him wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close.

Mike refused to humiliate himself again by admitting all this out loud, so he pivoted to a different but equally true explanation. “I’ve done a lot of questionable things in my life. If you did your homework on me, you know that. I’ve cheated. Helped other people cheat. Sold drugs.” He let out a huff that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Stole from the church.”

Harvey’s eyebrow lifted. “A real bad boy.”

“Reformed. I’m trying to change. That’s the whole reason I went back to school. Now I’ve managed to get off track again and I need to put a stop to this before I’m completely derailed.”

Harvey sagged against the door. His mouth worked for a couple of seconds, as if testing and discarding a succession of new arguments. In the end, he shrugged and stood up straight. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I’m usually better at convincing people to change their minds.” He held up a hand, even though Mike hadn’t said anything. “I’ll tell you what. Take the next few days to think about it. If you decide you’d like to continue our association, show up at my place Sunday night as usual.” He smiled crookedly. “How you choose to conduct the session is entirely up to you.”

“Harvey –” Mike did not have the opportunity to complete whatever it was he was going to say, because – perhaps taking a page from Mike’s playbook – Harvey opened the door and strode away at speed.

******

If Mike had thought he was making progress with his poor impulse control, he was forced to reevaluate that assessment as he stood in front of Harvey’s door Sunday night.

Every day since Harvey had come to see him, he’d agonized about what to do. It should have been a cut and dried case. Aside from getting help for his panic attacks, Harvey had made clear he had his own agenda with Mike, one which had exactly nothing to do with what Mike wanted from him in return. He’d referred to their involvement as an “association.” Not a relationship. Certainly not a romance.

The wise thing for Mike to do would be to let it end before he got in any deeper. He was on the verge of graduation, hopefully on the verge of a new career. He didn’t need the distraction caused by his ridiculous pining over something and someone he could never have.

The Sunday appointment grew closer and Mike’s resolve disintegrated. As the sun was setting, he lugged his bike down the stairs of his apartment building and set off for Manhattan. He managed not to dwell on what he was doing until the doorman let him into Harvey’s building and he was riding the elevator up. The full stupidity of his actions hit him then, but it felt too late to reverse course.

Harvey must have been expecting him, confident that he would weaken and show up, because Mike didn’t even have the chance to knock before the door opened.

“Mike –” he began, a pleased grin on his face.

“I’m not going to hypnotize you.” The words surprised Mike almost as much as they surprised Harvey.

The smile vanished. “Then why the hell are you here?”

Excellent question. “Can I come inside?”

It seemed for a moment as if Harvey would refuse, but he turned and walked away, leaving Mike to enter and close the door. Harvey went straight to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He shot Mike a look and then poured a second one, which he handed to Mike. They took their customary seats, Harvey on the recliner, and Mike across from him on the couch. Instead of raising the footrest, Harvey remained upright, sipping his scotch and watching Mike with a carefully blank expression as he waited for Mike to explain himself.

Mike’s mind had been working at lightning speed, trying to figure out what he should say. Maybe he should have rehearsed his speech, because what came out of his mouth was, “I’ll give you what you want, but without the hypnosis.”

Harvey’s lip curled. “What is it you think that I want?”

Mike raised the glass of scotch to his lips, struggling not to grimace as he swallowed a mouthful. Scotch was definitely not his drink, he decided, even though Harvey undoubtedly drank only the best. He forced more down, stalling and hunting for courage.

He could have chosen a hundred different things to say. What he opened with was, “You never miss an opportunity to let me know how unworthy I am.”

“Mike, that’s not –”

“Stop. Let me get this out. That night we slept together, you laid down the ground rules. One night only, no repeats.”

“Which you agreed to.”

“Which I agreed to. But your exact words were, ‘I don’t do second nights with casual partners.’ So, tell me, what is casual about this? We see each other twice a week. We eat dinner together. We talk and share our lives with one another. You lay there in that chair and give yourself over to me in ways I’m willing to bet you’ve never done with another person. By your own admission, you allowed me to direct you to … do things. You pretended you had no clue what was going on while you were under, until I called an end to it. Now you want to act like I’m just here providing some service. No, two services, actually. You get your hypnotherapy session, with an extra helping of domination.”

“Now hold on just a goddamned minute. I never said I was into that.”

“Right. You’re not into it. Except you could have stopped it anytime you wanted to, but you didn’t.”

Harvey ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Mike. Why did you have to ruin everything? We could both have gotten what we wanted.”

Mike threw Harvey’s own words back at him. “What is it you think I want?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Why not? Let’s have it. Full disclosure.”

“Fine.” Harvey’s expression shifted from irritation to what Mike interpreted as pity. “You want me. I made it clear from the first that wasn’t a possibility, but you kept pushing.”

“Why did you have to come back to the bar?” Oh, shit, was that a hitch in his voice? Were those tears pricking his eyes? Was he really about to make his humiliation complete by breaking down in front of Harvey? He couldn’t seem to stop talking in that awful, plaintive tone. “Why did you have to confide in me? Why did you ever agree to this … this fiasco? You sat right there in that chair and allowed me to believe I was getting some kind of stupid revenge for all your rejections. I actually felt guilty for what I was doing. I actually thought –”

Pressing his lips together, Mike sat perfectly still, afraid to jar loose the rest of his bottled-up emotions and demolish what scraps of dignity he still retained.

“Mike …”

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I never should have come here tonight. I never should have done a lot of things that I did.” He wasn’t sure where the courage came from to say the next words. Maybe it was the scotch. “I just can’t seem to help myself where you’re concerned. Even though we’ve both managed to doom this relationship in nearly every way possible, I won’t stop believing that we could have been great together if you’d given it half a chance and if I hadn’t fucked everything up so badly.”

The silence from Harvey was deafening.

One tear leaked from Mike’s eye, and then another. The door seemed a hundred miles away. He realized he was still clutching the glass of scotch and gulped the remainder of it, not even feeling the burn as it went down. He lurched to his feet and ordered himself to make a dignified retreat this time, to not race to the elevator as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels.

He made it to the door but didn’t get it open before Harvey caught up with him and pinned him against it with his solid body.

“In court,” Harvey’s voice rasped against his ear, “both sides are allowed a closing argument.”

Mike struggled weakly for perhaps two seconds before plastering himself against the door and reveling in the feel of Harvey pressed against him. He despised himself for enjoying the contact. “Then say what you have to say,” he growled breathlessly.

Harvey’s hands dug into his shoulders. His warm breath gusted against Mike’s ear and the side of his face as he spoke. “Yes, I made mistakes too. I didn’t know anything about you that first time, except that you were the bartender. I’ve fucked my share of bartenders, but I don’t date them.”

“Snob.”

“Hush. I have the floor.” He gave Mike a rough shake to drive the point home. “I’m not completely oblivious. I know that night we spent together was different than the usual pickup. You were …” He rested his forehead on Mike’s neck so that when he spoke again his words vibrated down Mike’s spine. “My God, I’ve never come so hard in my life. When I had you cuffed to my bed, I never wanted to let you go. You were amazing. Perfect. But morning came, you were still who you were, and so was I.” His grip on Mike tightened. “You were just another fuckable bartender and nothing more could come of that night.”

Mike’s throat tightened. “I know that,” he got out.

“I tried to stay away. I never planned to show up at the bar when I did. I’d had a lousy day. I needed a drink. My feet just took me there. I even pretended to myself that I’d forgotten about you, but I knew you’d be there.”

“And then you left with someone else.”

Harvey clicked his tongue. “I didn’t go home with her. She was leaving and I walked her out and called her a cab. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

Mike sniffed. “It does make me feel better.”

A muffled laugh against Mike’s neck. “You’re the one who pointed her out to me.”

“She’s hot, right?”

He felt Harvey’s chest rise and fall against his back. “Why are we talking about Evan Smith? She’s irrelevant.”

“Will you be coming to your point anytime soon?”

Another sigh from Harvey. He lifted his head, stepped back to put a few inches between their bodies, and gently turned Mike around to face him. “Why do you think I asked you to hypnotize me?”

“Why? Because you were having problems at work.”

“No, I mean why do you think I asked _you_ to hypnotize me. You. A student with little experience. In two minutes, I could have had referrals to dozens of professionals with proven track records in hypnotherapy, but I chose you. Why do you think that was?”

“To save a buck?”

The look of scornful disapproval Harvey gave him shouldn’t have been so scorchingly hot, but it was. Mike felt it all the way to his toes, and his knees went weak and wobbly.

“I offered to pay you, if you’ll remember. So, no. Try again.”

Mike began to get an inkling but didn’t dare speak the words out loud. He’d been burned too many times.

“The reason,” said Harvey, dark eyes boring into Mike, “is that I was looking for an excuse to spend time with you, to get to know you better. As our sessions went on, they became the highlight of my week. The first time you made me —” Biting his lip, he let go of Mike and turned away. “You ordered me to touch myself and it was as if you opened a door or turned a switch inside of me. I’ve never felt so relaxed and safe and turned on at the same time.”

“But you were faking it.”

Shaking his head, Harvey protested, “No, it wasn’t fake. You were the one in control and I …” He shook his head again and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I loved it.” He turned to look squarely at Mike. “I should have been honest with you from the beginning. That was my mistake. I’m being honest with you now. I want you to stay. I want to break all my rules for you. I’d love it if we continued with the hypnosis, but if you’re not comfortable with that I’ll understand. You can still …” His face tightened and he look pained. “Dominate me.” He laughed shortly. “Never thought I’d hear myself say that, but you’ve changed my mind about a lot of things.”

Mike wondered if he was having a stress-based hallucination. Was Harvey really offering him everything (nearly everything) he’d wanted? “You’re serious about all of this?”

Harvey nodded.

“And I can tell you what to do? Give you orders?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

So many possibilities, but Mike didn’t have to think about it for long.

“Kiss me,” he said.

“What?”

“Hard. And like you mean it.”

The way Harvey was staring at him, it wouldn’t have surprised Mike if he refused after all. He didn’t refuse. Taking a step to close the distance between them, Harvey purposefully fit his mouth against Mike’s and walked him backwards.

When Mike’s back hit the door, he let out a gasp that sounded like a sob and opened his mouth to Harvey’s. His eyes drifted shut. Harvey’s hands held either side of his face while he tongued into him and ground against him.

As the kiss grew heated, Mike imagined ordering Harvey into the bedroom and directing the removal of each piece of his clothing before pushing him down onto the bed and –

His brain stuttered and glitched. Imagination failed him. Each time he tried to picture what came next, it was Harvey pushing him down, Harvey dangling a pair of cuffs in front of him with a wicked grin, Harvey preparing him roughly and shoving into him hard and fast, just making him take it.

He groaned and broke the kiss, banging his head against the door. “Wait,” he panted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harvey was frowning at him. That was not good. That was not what Mike wanted. It as a concerned frown, though, not an angry one.

“I have a confession. All I want from you tonight is for you to fuck me like you did that first time. Would that be okay?”

Harvey stared at him and shook his head slowly. “Oh, no. Not like that. You need to say it like you mean it. Make me.” His voice deepened. “Order me to tie you up and pound you until you scream like a little slut and beg for more.”

Mike went hot all over and laughed breathlessly. God, this was twisted, and hot, and he loved it. As he speed-stripped, he dimly wondered if things were always going to be so complicated between them. Probably. On the other hand, it would never be boring.

He could not stop smiling as he reached for the familiar words and gave them a tweak. “My voice is all you hear. When I count to three, you’re going to drag me into the bedroom and fuck me until neither of us can remember our names. Nod if you understand.”

Harvey grabbed Mike’s hips and dragged him close. “Oh, I understand. I understand completely.” He thrust forward, rubbing wool serge against Mike’s hardening cock.

Mike groaned, knees turning to jelly. “God damn you. Nod, Harvey.”

Harvey nodded, a wicked light in his eyes.

“One. Two. Three.”

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> For anybody who started reading These Unquiet Spirits a while back, please be assured that I will be finishing that fic, but not until after I finish the SECOND auction fic I committed to. I’m pretty far along on that one already, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.
> 
> Also, I’ll take this opportunity to plug the Fandom Trumps Hate auction a little, since the people that run it have indicated that it will be happening again at the start of 2021 (even though its namesake has been flushed down the GIANT TOILET OF DESTINY – or something like that). The charities they choose are always great and timely. You can offer your own fic, or art, or beta reading skills for bid, or bid on one of those things. There are other categories, like fanvids, podfics, and maybe some other things I can’t remember. I won some great artwork for my fics in past years, and as I mentioned above, a FANTASTIC beta reader this year. So, look for it on Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth in a month or two. I’m a little traumatized right now by this year’s pernicious writing constipation (among a thousand other things) but I’ll probably participate again.


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